


Sleep, and Where to Find It

by saltsanford



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Lemons, M/M, Male Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5606641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltsanford/pseuds/saltsanford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash is in his bed and this is confusing for several reasons.</p><p>Making the most out of stolen moments in a warzone. Wash and Tucker on Chorus, post season 12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep, and Where to Find It

There's a sock on Tucker's door.

There's a sock on his door and this is confusing for several reasons. One, because Tucker did not put said sock on said door. Two, because Tucker is not currently inside his room. Three, because there should only be a sock on his door if someone is fucking behind it. 

Namely, _he_ should be fucking behind it.

Although- come to think of it- he isn't sure he ever quite specified that particular point when lecturing the soldiers of Chorus about the importance of not knocking when there was a sock on the doorknob.

Tucker frowns, removing his helmet and pressing his ear to the door. Nothing. No voices, no sound, and certainly no fucking, unless whoever is in there is having the lamest sex ever. Anyone walking by his room is going to think that he's in there dicking around, and that is unacceptable. 

He opens the door, blinking a little as his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Somehow, he and the other Reds and Blues had all been lucky enough to get their own bedroom after moving to the capital. The rooms were more like glorified closets, really, but they were _theirs_. Tucker has never had a space of his own before, and this one even has a tiny window to let in some natural light. He's grateful for the lighting, as it helps him makes sense of his current situation that much quicker. Frowning, he closes the door behind him, stops in his tracks, and tries to decide if he's dropped into a parallel universe or not.

Because Washington is currently in Tucker's bed.

Wash is in his bed and this is confusing for several reasons. One, because Wash has his _own_ bed. Two, because Wash is sleeping, _actually sleeping_ , and that phenomenon alone is enough to make Tucker want to alert the presses.

And three, because Wash is naked.

At least, Tucker thinks he's naked. Wash is lying on his back with one arm thrown over his head and the other draped across his toros. He's got a sheet- _Tucker's_ sheet- tangled up around his waist, so he _could_ technically have underwear on, but his one leg is dangling off the side of the bed and he's _definitely_ not wearing any pants.

So: naked. Possibly.

Tucker clears his throat, but Wash doesn't even stir. He wasn't really expecting that to work- on the rare occasions that Wash did sleep, he slept like the dead- but it does make his job that much more difficult. Plan B. He sighs loudly, setting his helmet down on the crate he uses as a table with a slam.

Nothing.

Tucker continues to take off his armor in the loudest, most obnoxious ways he can think of, and okay, well, at least now there are some intriguing noises coming from his room. It's better than dead silence. Several minutes tick by and Tucker is left standing in his Kevlar undersuit, frowning at a Wash who _still isn't moving_.

"Wash," he says loudly. "Wake _up._ " He jostles the mattress with his foot. Jesus Christ, has Wash ever slept so deeply in his life?

It's probably irrational, but unease starts to build in his gut, because Tucker's never seen Wash this _still_ before and it's starting to freak him out. "Wash," he says again, moving closer until he's sitting on the edge of the bed. "Nap time is over. Washington. _Agent Washington. On your feet. Report for duty. I need a status update. The base is on fire and we're all gonna die._ "

After a moment of hesitation, he gives Wash's shoulder a little shake to no avail. His face is more relaxed and vulnerable than Tucker's ever seen it, and he's so still it's as if he's not even breathing-

Wait.

Tucker frowns, tilting his head a little to see the rise and fall of Wash's chest, and he _thinks_ there's movement there but it's hard to tell in the dim lighting, and holy fuck, what if he's not sleeping, what if, _what if_ -

Tucker knows from experience that if he needs to wake Wash up, it's best to do it slowly. Between the nightmares and the spec-ops honed reflexes, startling a sleeping Wash is borderline suicide. At the moment, Tucker does't really give a shit, he just wants to see some goddamn movement, and if he gets thrown across the room in the process, well, at least he'll get to see if Wash is actually naked or not.

"Wash, wake the _fuck_ up!" He grabs Wash's shoulders and shakes them, hard, and sure enough Wash bolts up right and grabs Tucker's wrists..

"It's me, it's Tucker, you asshole," he says. Wash recognizes him almost immediately, dropping his wrists and flopping back down onto the pillows. _Tucker's_ pillows.

"Well, this is awkward...I wasn't expecting you back for another twelve hours or so. What time is it?" he asks, rubbing his hands over his face, and in Tucker's opinion, that is literally the _least important question in the world right now_ , so he decides to ask one of his own instead.

"What the fuck was that?!" 

"What was what?" Wash asks with a yawn, and Tucker resists the urge to slap his hands away from his face. Maybe Wash isn't fully awake yet.

He propels himself to his feet for the sake of doing something. "That! Jesus Christ, dude, I thought you were dead."

Wash stops rubbing his hands over his face and squints at Tucker. "You thought I was _dead?_ "

"I've never seen you sleep like that in my life, seriously, you weren't moving at _all_ -"

"So you came to the logical conclusion that I was dead." Now the fucker is smirking at him, and that's not fair, for several reasons, the most important being that Wash shouldn't be allowed to be naked and smirking in people's beds without giving proper warning first.

"Fuck, I don't know, dude! We're in the middle of a war! For all I knew, you'd been captured and-"

"And stripped naked and left in your bed as...what? A warning to the enemy?"

Tucker really doesn't appreciate the way his smirk his deepening. "Hey, you know what we're up against! Those mercenaries are definitely fucked up enough to pull some shit like that, so don't look at me like _I'm_ crazy."

"Fair enough," Wash yawns. He stretches until several of his joints pop, and shows absolutely zero signs of moving anytime soon. In fact, there's no sense of urgency in his movements whatsoever until he catches Tucker staring at him. "What?"

"Uh, so, if you're not dead, then...care to explain what the hell is going on?"

Wash blinks in confusion. "Huh?"

Tucker is starting to suspect that Wash is fucking with him. "Wash! Is there a _reason_ you're naked in my bed?"

Wash frowns and glances down at his body. He does seem to wake up a little more, at that, so Tucker's just starting to to think his theory of Wash not being fully awake yet is correct- 

when Wash kind of shrugs, props himself up on one elbow, and looks Tucker dead in the eye. "Why don't you come over here and find out?"

Tucker can feel about fifty different expressions fighting for dominance on his face before settling on what is surely his most attractive one: eyes bulging and jaw hanging practically to his chest. Wash is _definitely_ fucking with him, because it's the only thing that makes sense, except for the part where Wash is still smirking and, good God, now there's a patented Agent Washington Expectant Eyebrow Raise involved and Tucker thinks, fuck it, he can't be held responsible for whatever happens next.

He takes two steps forward at the same time that Wash doubles over in laughter, flopping back down against the pillows and clutching his chest in mirth. "Oh god, oh god," he gasps, "Oh, you should've seen your face..."

Tucker jolts to a halt mid-step, one hand frozen at the release seal on the back of his neck. _Back up, back up, abort mission,_ his brain screams, but his limbs are stubbornly refusing to obey. He stands there like an idiot as Wash howls with laughter, and okay, it's a pretty goddamn great laugh and he has to fight to keep from smiling himself. "Yeah, laugh it up, giggles," he grumbles, and Wash eventually gasps himself into silence.

"Oh god, that was funny...." he trails off then, seeming to notice Tucker's proximity for the first time. "...Wait. Were you...actually coming over here to...?"

Tucker decides that, seeing as how he's already fucked himself over, he may as well ride this one out. "Find out for myself why you're naked in my bed? Yup," says Tucker, and he's rewarded when Wash's cheeks flush. "I'm glad you're here, actually. I got you a present."

Wash blinks. "You-what?"

"It's a pretty big package, though. Might take you awhile to unwrap it. Bowchicka-"

"Tucker, for god's sake," Wash groans, covering his face with his hands, and that's just not acceptable because now Tucker can't see the blush or the freckles.

"Hah," says Tucker triumphantly. "Nice try, Wash. A plus for effort, but you fail on the follow through. Since you're clearly not here to seduce me, you gonna tell me why you're naked and in my bed?"

"I'm not _naked_ ," Wash protests. "I've got underwear on-"

Tucker rolls his eyes. "Seriously? That's not the point! Why aren't you in your suit? I've seen you sleep in full power armor like a million times before."

"Just because I _can_ sleep in armor doesn't mean I _like_ to," says Wash, exasperated.

"All those times you yelled at me for sleeping naked, and here you are, doing the same goddamned thing," Tucker says sulkily. "I don't wanna hear shit about it ever again."

"But I'm not naked!"

"Maybe not, but you are pretty close, and besides, you're in my bed, which automatically takes credibility away from anything you say. Why aren't you napping in your own room, anyway?"

Wash sighs. "My room may as well be the war meeting room, at this point. I can't be in there for ten minutes without someone barging in and needing something."

"Wow." Tucker raises his eyebrows. "Agent Washington, shirking his duties. I never thought I'd see the day."

"I'm not shirking my duties," says Wash, wounded. "I just..."

"Dude, I'm kidding. Shirk away. You've been running yourself into the fucking ground, it's about time you took a nap. They can manage without you for a night."

Wash nods, but he still looks a little guilty. "I figured no one would dare to come within twenty feet of your room if you had a sock on the door."

"Hey, that's their loss, not mine."

"Really though, I didn't think you'd be back anytime soon. Aren't you supposed to be on reconnaissance today?" When Tucker shakes his head, Wash frowns. "Huh. I must've messed up the schedule."

"Okay, if _you're_ messing up the schedule, you're definitely overworked. No more work talk. Let's get back to the part where you're mostly naked in my bed."

Silence. Tucker crosses his arms over his chest and waggles his eyebrows at Wash, who is looking at him suspiciously. "I...honestly can't tell if you're fucking with me or not."

Tucker lifts one shoulder in a casual half-shrug. "I might be. But just plain _fucking_ you sounds a lot more fun, if you ask me."

You could really see just how many freckles Wash had when he blushed, Tucker notes in satisfaction. They stood out brilliantly against the red of his cheeks and the flush of his chest, and it's the first time Tucker's able to see just how far down that blush goes.

"Jesus _Christ_ , Tucker," Wash mutters. "You can't say things like that to people."

"Why not?"

"Because...because...they'll start getting...ideas..."

Tucker closes the gap between them and leans down towards Wash, who, while turning redder than seems humanly possible, doesn't move away. "What kind of ideas?"

Blush or not, there is no waver in Wash's voice when he says, "Ideas about ways you could put that smart mouth of yours to work."

Now _Tucker's_ cheeks are turning red, and Christ, that's just unacceptable, he doesn't _blush_ , he can't even _remember_ the last time someone made him blush, and later, he blames what he does next on this sudden and startling realization.

He lays one hand along the side of Wash's jaw, and there's enough time to watch the self-satisfied smirk give away to shock before Tucker kisses him square on the mouth.

Wash's mouth falls open in a gasp as their lips meet, and Tucker takes full advantage, noting with surprise and approval that Wash's tongue tastes like cinnamon, _cinnamon_ , what on this base could possibly be _cinnamon-flavored_ -

and then he stops giving a fuck because Wash curls a hand in the Kevlar at his neck and yanks him closer. Tucker stumbles a little, placing one hand on the mattress near Wash's hip to steady himself. The kiss is long, and it's deep, and it's _good_ , because apparently learning how to kiss the living fuck out of people was part of the Freelancer training curriculum. 

Tucker pulls back from the kiss first, but he only does it to see the look on Wash's face. Wash's eyes are still closed, and Tucker feels something inside of his chest twist. It's not the little freckles on his eyelids, it's not the uneven cadence of Wash's breath, and it's not even the smile tugging at his lips-

It's the way Wash is pressing his cheek into Tucker's palm like he's trying to savor the feeling that rips him up a little on the inside. "How was that idea?" he asks, and he means for it to come out sounding cocky, not like, all _soft_ and shit.

But Wash opens his eyes with a smile, and he says, "it's a start," and he winds a hand through Tucker's dreads and pulls him down into another kiss, the other hand braced behind him for balance. Tucker follows gladly, swinging a leg on either side of Wash's thighs to settle in his lap, and he wants to take a moment to revel in the fact that he's _straddling a half-naked Wash_ in bed, but his mind is already getting hazy because the kissing, god, _the kissing_. He's so blissed out that he almost doesn't notice Wash thumbing the release on the back of his undersuit, which unknits itself all the way to the small of his back.

Wash somehow gets the goddamn thing off of his arms and tugged down around his waist without missing a beat in their kisses, and Tucker finds himself impressed and kind of surprised, because who knew Wash had moves like that? "Smooth," he mutters into the kiss, and feels Wash's lips curve into a another smile. 

They pull back from the kiss at the same moment and just kind of _look_ at each other, grinning stupidly. Tucker is on the verge of cracking a joke, because it's so _sentimental_ , but then Wash brushes the back of his fingers against Tucker's cheek and the quip dies on his tongue. He trails his hand down Tucker's neck, over his shoulders, across his chest, as if he's trying to memorize every detail, and the way he's _looking_ at him, god, when was the last time someone looked at him like that-

Tucker closes his eyes when Wash leans in suddenly and presses soft kisses against his neck, down to the hollow of his collarbone, further down to his chest, down further still to-

" _Jesus Christ_ , Wash," he hisses as Wash fastens his lips around one of Tucker's nipples and sucks hard. His gasps quickly turn to moans as Wash licks the other one, then sucks again, and now he's using his _teeth_ , and fuck, oh fuck oh fuck-

 _No one walking by the door could think there's lame sex going on in here now_ , he thinks, delirious, and his hips jolt forward as Wash does something with his teeth that shouldn't be _allowed_ and-

He's a panting, shivering _mess_ when Wash pulls back and grins at him, the smug little shit, and it only gets worse when he tugs at the Kevlar bunched up around Tucker's hips. "Take this off. Now."

He says it in the same voice he uses to say things like, "I want ten laps around the canyon," or "fifty more push-ups," and Tucker feels a wave of arousal pulse through him so powerfully that it's dizzying. He scrambles out of Wash's lap and tugs off his suit, and after some super unsexy hopping around, he manages to free himself, now left in only his boxers.

"Fucking amour," he mutters, and climbs back on top of Wash."Where were we?"

Wash is staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, glancing up and down Tucker's body, and Tucker is pleased that he clearly likes what he sees. Less pleased by the lucidity that's creeping back into Wash's eyes at the realization that they're both now more or less naked. "Is..." he swallows hard, obviously trying to pull himself together, and Tucker has to bite back a smile. "Are we, is this, are you sure...are you sure you want to do this?"

Tucker rolls his eyes, shoving Wash's shoulders down onto the mattress so that he's flat on his back. He lines their hips up, grinding purposefully. "What do you think?"

Wash's hands grasp at Tucker's shoulders, digging his fingers into the knots of muscles there. "I think...I just want to make...sure...that you..." he gasps as Tucker rolls his hips again. "Ummm..."

Oh, this was going to be _fun_. Tucker drops his lips to Wash's neck, and places slow, open mouthed kisses all along Wash's jawline, working up to nip at the shell of his ear. Wash is whimpering now, his hips moving against Tucker's, and Tucker grins against his neck before pulling back to look him in the eyes. "What were you saying, Wash?"

He trails a hand down in between their bodies while Wash stammers up at him. "What...I was...oh god, _oh god_..." and he stops trying to form words when Tucker cups a hand over his cock.

"It's a shame you left these on," he whispers in Wash's ear, still stroking him through the fabric. "We could've had some real fun."

Wash mumbles something inarticulate as Tucker starts to kiss his way down the length of his body and settles himself in between Wash's knees, running his hands slowly up the insides of his thighs. Wash lifts up his head to get a look at Tucker kneeling in between his legs then falls back, trembling. "Oh my _god_ , Tucker..."

Except he practically _moans_ it and Tucker actually has to close his eyes for a moment to get himself together. Holy fuck, they should've done this ages ago.

Well. He's certainly going to make up for lost time now. He rubs little circles on Wash's hip bones, which earns him another moan. "Maybe next time you climb into my bed, you'll make sure you take _everything_ off." And he presses his lips to the base of Wash's cock, trailing his lips down his length before reaching the tip and sucking hard.

Wash lets out a stuttering gasp, rocking his hips up to push deeper into Tucker's mouth, but the fabric of his boxers doesn't let him get very far. A frustrated whine escapes as he fists his hands desperately into the sheets beneath him.

"So needy," Tucker whispers, pulling away completely and leaving Wash's hips rutting against only the fabric. He slides the underwear off, robbing him of any friction, and Wash groans as Tucker sucks at the skin of his hipbone. He switches to the other side, letting his lips brush lightly against the head of Wash's cock first.

"God, Tucker, _please_..."

A wave of heat pulses through his abdomen at the words, and Tucker glances up, triumphant. Wash's face is flushed, blue eyes bright and piercing. His hands are still fisted in the sheets, but they're shaking now, and his hips are rolling in helpless circles against the air. Tucker decides that this, right here, seeing Wash undone and naked and _begging_ for him, is the hottest thing he's ever seen in his whole goddamned life, no contest.

He wraps a hand loosely around Wash's length and strokes lazily. "Please what, Wash?" Wash bites down hard on his lip, trying to rock into Tucker's hand, but he keeps the pressure light and the pace slow. It isn't long before Wash is tossing his head back and forth and panting, and Tucker places a slow, wet kiss on the tip of Wash's cock before pulling away both his mouth and his hand.

Wash whimpers at the loss of his touch, and drops his head back against the pillow. "Oh my god, Tucker, please, _please_ suck me off, god, please..." and Tucker has to take another second to steady himself before taking Wash's cock into his mouth and sucking hard.

Wash, for his part, just keeps letting out these strangled gasps and _moans_ and there's no way anyone walking by isn't going to hear every one of them and Tucker feels another flare of triumph at the thought. He keeps sucking, getting his hands into the mix as well, and waits until Wash is shuddering and sighing and saying, "so good, so good, so good-"

Before taking his mouth away completely.

This is why video cameras are a good idea, Tucker thinks, because the moan of frustration that Wash lets out is something he'd like to hear everyday for the rest of his goddamn life.

Tucker is not a selfish lover by any means. He's always been good at zeroing in on what his partners like, and prides himself on making sure they come just as hard as he does. _This_ , however- Tucker has never been quite so focused on another person before as he is now. He kisses his way back up Wash's body until their faces are level and drinks in the sight, fascinated by everything from the way Wash is squirming desperately underneath him, to the pleading look in his eyes. Tucker doesn't think he's ever seen Wash look desperate or pleading, and it's all for him, _he's_ the one making Wash feel this good, and he's indescribably happy about that, because Wash deserves to feel good, he deserves to feel good _every goddamned day_ from now until the end of time, as far as Tucker is concerned.

Wash combs his hands through Tucker's dreads and pulls him closer, but he's shaking too hard to put any real weight behind his movements. "Please," he pants, and Tucker can feel his fingertips stuttering against his temples. "Tucker, please."

Tucker takes another second to savor the sight before dragging slow, wet kisses back down Wash's body, and the sound of relief that he makes when Tucker finally reaches his cock nearly echoes. He keeps going this time, giving a truly world class blowjob, if he does say so himself, and is rewarded when Wash comes so hard he's practically sobbing. 

Tucker swallows him dry, keeping Wash's cock in his mouth until he starts to go soft and the bucking of his hips stills. He pulls away, resting his forehead against Wash's stomach for a moment before crawling back up. Wash wastes no time in kissing him, and Tucker is highly satisfied that Wash isn't one of those guys who refused to kiss you after you blew them.

He doesn't even realize that he's got a hand around himself until Wash grabs his wrist, pulling him away. "Oh no, you don't," he says. "Just give me a second."

Tucker bites his lip, because he really doesn't _have_ a second, here, and he tries to illustrate this point by grinding against Wash's hip. Before he knows what's happening, Wash grabs his hips and swivels them towards them edge of the bed, sliding off the side and kneeling in between Tucker's spread legs, dragging his boxers off in the process.

Tucker sits up, blinking down at him. "Your turn," Wash says, in his fucking _team leader_ voice again, and that coupled with the fact that Wash is _on his knees_ in front of him is just too much.

"Oh fuck," he moans, and Wash grins a little and wraps a hand around Tucker's cock, and he gets one agonizingly slow stroke in before _there's a knock at the fucking door._

Tucker closes his eyes briefly before looking down at Wash, who not only hasn't sprung to his feet like Tucker was expecting, but he hasn't moved his hand, either. He just looks up from his place between Tucker's knees, his face the absolute picture of innocence.

Oh fuck, _oh fuck_. Tucker swallows hard before raising his voice slightly and gritting out, "Go away."

"Tucker, I need you to look at these maps." Oh Christ, it's Carolina of all people, and even _that_ doesn't have Wash scampering away- to the contrary, his innocent smile has now morphed into one of pure evil.

"I'm a little busy Caro- _lina_ -" his voice hitches as Wash starts moving his hand, slowly, _so fucking slowly._ His brain frizzles out for a second and when he tunes back in, Carolina is talking again.

"...could possibly still be doing in there, it's been hours and..."

Tucker squeezes his eyes shut as Wash moves his hand a little faster, and what's worse, he can feel Wash's hot breath ghosting tantalizingly close across his cock, and Carolina is _still fucking talking-_

"Tucker? This is ridiculous-"

"Carolina, go away-" he barely manages to turn his moan into a strangled gasp as Wash swipes his tongue across Tucker's head, and fuck it, there's no way he isn't going to watch this glorious sight. Wash is moving his hand even faster now, and Tucker's hips are snapping helplessly forward with each stroke, and-

"...you are a Captain, you have a duty to-"

And then Wash bows his head and takes Tucker into his mouth, holding eye contact the whole time, and Tucker moans, burying a hand in Wash's messy blond hair and tugging him down even further. Wash takes his length without even so much as a gag, and doesn't resist when Tucker rocks firmly into his mouth, setting a fast pace. He hears Carolina mutter something like, "oh for god's sake, Tucker, I'll just come back later," but he doesn't care, he doesn't care if the entire planet barges into his room, because Wash is giving him the best head he's ever had in his life, and when he comes, Wash doesn't pull away until he collapses back onto the mattress.

Wash flops next to him a moment later, and for a minute or two, they just lay there, staring at the ceiling and breathing hard. "Holy fuck, dude," Tucker says hoarsely. "Why didn't we do that years ago?"

"Dunno." Wash breathes deeply for a few seconds, still trying to get his composure back. "I mean. I _was_ your commanding officer."

Tucker rolls his head to look at Wash incredulously. "Uh, so? All the more reason! We could've had this whole authority kink going on. Christ, I would've come on the spot if you'd told me to shut up and get on my knees."

And despite the fact that they just sucked each other off like ten seconds ago, Wash _still_ manages to blush. "I didn't want to take advantage-"

"Wash, please, feel free to take advantage whenever you want."

Wash props himself up on one elbow to look at Tucker, ghosting the fingers of his other hand across Tucker's jaw, his cheek, his hair. Tucker watches the emotions play across his face, watches him go from relaxed, to happy, to disbelieving, to uncertain.

Tucker frowns at that last one. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just..." Wash shakes his head a little. "This isn't. I'm not?"

"I know I just did a number on you, but you're gonna have to use full sentences here, dude."

Wash curls his fingers into Tucker's hair, and smiles, but there's still that weird uncertainty clouding his eyes. He hesitates before saying, "I'm not...I'm not dreaming, right? We're both awake?"

His voice is light and casual, but he's avoiding eye contact, and the thing in Tucker's chest twists painfully again. "You're not dreaming, Wash." He reaches a hand up to grasp Wash's jaw, tugging gently until their gazes lock. "Stop. I'm not lying to you. I promise."

Wash nods, blue eyes clearing somewhat before he leans in to kiss Tucker, and it's soft and gentle and everything a good post-sex kiss should be, in Tucker's opinion. "Thanks," Wash says, and it startles a laugh out of Tucker.

"Oh, my god, you're welcome, Wash..." Tucker reverses their positions so that he's the one leaning over Wash. "You should probably stay here tonight, you know."

"Stay...here? In your room? Overnight?"

"Yep," says Tucker. "If you're still worried that you're dreaming, we might need a round two. Just so you can be sure."

A smile twitches at the corner of Wash's lips. "Oh, really?"

"Yep. And that way I'll be here first thing when you wake up so you can't start convincing yourself it never happened."

"I don't know about that..." Wash hesitates. "You know how bad my nightmares get, I could hurt you-I _have_ hurt you-"

"Oh, stop," Tucker yawns. "You are not robbing me of post-sex cuddling. That shit is the best. Besides, when I'm done with you you'll be so goddamn tuckered out- get it? tuckered out?- that you won't have any room for nightmares."

"Is that so," says Wash. There's that delicious blush again, and Tucker finds himself wondering if he'll have to resort to increasingly dirty things as time goes on in order to continue making Wash blush.

A pretty goddamn wonderful concept, if you ask him.

Tucker runs a hand through Wash's fluffy hair- through Wash's _sex hair-_ and he says, "it is," before leaning down to kiss him again. He means to kiss him on the lips, but the kiss ends up on Wash's forehead, and it's a tender, soft thing that he tries to put a lot of unsaid words into-

-and Wash smiles up at him, all freckles and blue sky eyes, and Tucker wouldn't trade places with anyone else right now, not for the whole world.

**Author's Note:**

> (why doesn't anyone use the hashtag "lemons" anymore am I really that old omg)
> 
> This was inspired by a prompt my best friend gave me on tumblr. It had to include the following four lines....
> 
> "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"  
> "I got you a present."  
> "I thought you were dead."  
> "Well this is awkward..."
> 
> ...and of course it got wildly out of control. 
> 
> I have tentative plans to turn this into a mini-series, so we'll see where that goes! I love these two.


End file.
